


Tale of the Gutsy Samurai

by podado



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Samurai, Second Shinobi War, Third Shinobi War, Uchiha Clan - Freeform, Worldbuilding, giving my samurai some love, one war at a time, social and economical structure of tetsu no kuni, you'll see why - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/podado/pseuds/podado
Summary: or alternate title:  [Samurai: A Guide to Worldbuilding] because Kishimoto didn't give them much love...When their death results in punting them into a world of war, bloodshed and clan strife Eiji doesn't have to worry much when born into a samurai clan from the neutral Tetsu no Kuni.Well, that's what he likes to tell himself.  Sometimes adults are idiots and like to make things difficult for the younger generation.  Eiji takes this as a challenge to overcome.
Relationships: TBA - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. And my Sleeves are Growing Wet

**Author's Note:**

> first story im posting...yeah

**July 20, 20XX**

They ready for their appointment, one shoe at a time. Jeans, a long sleeve and a hoodie are still not enough to comfort them, to shield them from the outside world, but they make do with what they have.

If they think about it for too long, the fear ends up clouding their mind. Fingers start to pick at skin, their cheek red from constant abuse but does the trick in pushing back the anxiety brought up by said fear.

Their hair is up in a bun, the most efficient way to control the curly locks that have broken brushes before. It’s also the most frustrating, trying to get all that hair contained.

Adjusting their glasses against their nose, and ~~**[[ ]]**~~ is still not ready to face the outside, but they do so anyway because this appointment is three months overdue.

Their fingers twitch, the scratching a welcome distraction.

“I’m going out.”

This warrants no response from the others in their household, but they don’t expect one anyway. ~~**[[ ]]**~~ always had a meek voice, a quiet presence.

The house dog barks several times as they leave their home towards the clinic.

They don’t wander, they don’t sidetrack or take a detour. Getting on their bike, ~~**[[ ]]**~~ heads straight towards their destination without letting anything distract them. Their breath steadies as they have something to focus on now, not wanting to fall down if they so much as look behind them while cycling.

They don’t let the shadows eat at their vision, peeking dangerously on the edges as they always do when they leave the safety of their house.

Once at the clinic they chain their bike and take another deep breath. Going through the motions, ~~**[[ ]]**~~ goes through the entrance, greets the secretary and then goes on to pick a number before sitting down to wait for it to be called.

Their hands fidget, foot taps impatiently without them knowing, and they let out a dragged out sigh as they slouch against the chair they’ve chosen in the very back of the waiting room. It sits in the corner where their back is facing the wall and they have a clear view of everyone else.

~~Fingers reach up once more-~~

At the call of their number after ten minutes they get up, hurried steps going through the familiar hallways and doors before finding the one which held the screen projecting their doctor.

They notice it’s a different doctor than the last appointment, and they have to suppress a grimace from forming on their lips.

It’s the same cycle, the same questions and answers before falling into a monotone routine that this new doctor is unaware of. Their answers are vague, descriptions only half truths.

Why tell them everything that’s wrong with them if they’ll never meet again?

The only thing these appointments manage to do is exhaust them mentally, give them a migraine and hate the system that tries so hard to push people like them under the rug.

Sometimes they wonder if it’ll be better if they didn’t exist at all, and that’s them on their good days.

After a renewal of their prescription and another appointment made, they blandly thank the doctor and leave the clinic. They spare no response to the secretary, and let out a small sigh of relief when their bike is still in the same place they left it.

Small mercies.

The streets are somewhat barren now that he worst of the afternoon traffic is over, and it makes it easier to take shortcuts in order to get away from all this. The outside, the noise, the danger they feel when being alone in such an open space. With these thoughts swirling in their mind, they speed up to get back to the safety of their room.

…

If they had taken their time to look both sides, they would’ve noticed the silver car heading straight towards them, passing through lights to take advantage of the empty streets.

Just like they did.

It just so happens the car is coming from their right, the eye on that side impaired ever since their surgery at the age of seven. They can barely notice shadows of figures right in front of them, let alone anything coming at them from that side.

Brains are curious like that, focusing on strengthening the left side while writing off the right side as useless. The doctor had said it was a natural development, and not to worry about it in the long run.

There’s a screech of tires, the sound of an impact, and the taste of iron and bile in their throat.


	2. With the Moisture Dripping Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ain't easy being a clan kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doing double upload since the first was just a prologue, enjoy

Being born again wasn’t the thing that had surprised them. Reincarnation was always an option they had hoped for in a small part of their mind that had been buried under all the stress caused by their mental illness. What they didn’t expect was being born as another human being, or in another reality altogether.

They also didn’t expect to be reborn with the right gender, which had them wondering if this was going to become a cruel joke orchestrated by some higher power to bite them in the ass later.

So now here they were as Eiji of the Taira Clan, second son of clan head Taira no Korihira and his wife Akane.

It was disorienting the first year and a half, getting used to being a baby again and remembering how to act like one. There was no reason to alert others of how there was an actual adult consciousness in place of the barely developing one he should actually have. His first word was “mama” and he learned how to walk one wobbly step at a time. The rest of the time before he turned two was spent absorbing more words and making sure he actually did more walking than wobbling.

Then he started learning more about where he was, and what exactly he was dealing with.

The studies started small, short lessons given by the same mentors his older brother studied under. Reading and writing were the most practical to learn first in order to make the rest of the subjects easier to grasp. At a pace that proved more tedious than anything once he got the hang of things, but he really wasn’t complaining if it let Eiji use his free time flexibly.

Like ~~spy on~~ observe his older brother when he’s training with father, but details.

After his work was acceptable to his mentors, history and arithmetic lessons were introduced next. This of course at a level where he’ll understand and absorb readily for his age, but Eiji couldn’t help the genuine wonder and fascination for anything and everything historical. As a former history minor and buff, the boy took to it like a fish to water.

Tetsu no Kuni, The land of Iron, home of the samurai and his clan. It said so much about the training, the familiarity of the uniforms Eiji has seen on the guards and older fellow clansmen, and of course the fact that almost everyone he’s seen in said armor own either one or multiple blades they carry on their person at all times.

He’s taught of the Warring States Era and the First Shinobi War, which sounded like pure unadulterated chaos. Learns of the agreement between his people and the shinobi to not interfere with their business since they don’t follow the same doctrine. Reasonable, but doesn’t voice his opinions on how much of a missed opportunity that is. As a kid, even as the son of a clan head, there wasn’t much he could do about that...yet.

One thing he knew, even before in his past life, was that adults didn’t like it when they were told they’re wrong.

Also ninja were a thing. That piece of information took a bit longer to digest especially with the bloody history behind them. He’ll eventually get used to that, and if not then pretend he was okay with bloodthirsty assassins being the ninety percent of the population. Maybe.

Eventually he started keeping journals. Anything he didn’t learn in his lessons he would write down questions to ask, and anything he did learn about he jot down with heavy enthusiasm. Not only did it help with his writing but having this information at his disposal was quite convenient.

His brother would often tease him about it, wobbly chicken scratch and all, and he’d just stick his tongue out in response.

Arithmetic studies, however, were a bit harder to grasp.

Eiji knew he would have problems, given the fact that in his past life they needed actual visuals when it came to more difficult problems and equations. He didn’t worry at first, knowing that what he’d be dealing with would be mere child’s play, but when the numbers kept on shifting or becoming muddled Eiji felt his stomach twist with dread.

It only took a week for his mentor to figure it out and inform his father, and then another week for Eiji to nurse his sprained wrist back to working condition while figuring out a lesson plan that would work for him. Another incident didn’t arise as he doubled his efforts to make sure it stayed that way. He had been lucky his father couldn’t afford for him to have it broken.

It was also the time where he realized that, as the son of a clan head, there was little room for error or to be less than the best. His father had high expectations, and if they were not met then there would be consequences.

At least he took comfort in his history lessons, whenever he wasn’t fretting about his arithmetic studies. Just recently he learned about the different clans in Tetsu, what they were in charge of economically and who their leaders were currently. His clan of course is lead by his father, and they were in charge of importing metals for forging the blades they use and various other weapons.

Of course all the information was simplified, he knew this, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks inside his notebooks when he was away from prying eyes.

Everything eventually settled into a rhythm, with no more new subjects added to his lesson plan. It made sense, since he was already learning what is considered the core of his studies. He was still “too young” to understand politics and the economical structure of their country, and anything else was just extra and unnecessary in the eyes of his father.

Time went on, and there was a lull in the times he actually saw his father or even his brother, but for some reason he wasn’t surprised that after a few months of turning four he found himself joining his brother for morning practice under the heavy scrutiny of their father.

**~~sss~~ **

On the one hand, it was exciting to finally join his brother during morning training. Eiichi, as first son and heir of the Taira-ku, has been getting private lessons from their father and a private instructor that covers training when their father was out on clan business. Unlike Eiji who only had practice during the morning, his brother trained on three separate time slots in between his academic lessons during the day.

That being said, Eiji should’ve listened to his gut when it twisted as his training started to align along with his brother’s, and the free time he used to have all but vanished into the wind.

The excitement only lasted during the first joint session in the morning, when the thrill of finally spending time with his brother was replaced with the creeping bitterness that he started to hold for their father. The realization of just who Taira no Korihira really was left no desire to deepen the familial bond they supposedly shared.

As the days turn to weeks and then into months, Eiji started to get used to all the bruises appearing on his body while falling back on one of his worse habits he developed in his past life.

He couldn’t help it, with the pain of picking and scratching at his skin distracting him from more pressing injuries.

In time, he came to appreciate knowing that he took after his mother Akane. Soft features, dark slanted eyes that curved prettily on his face, and a pale complexion that rivaled only her own. The only thing he had inherited from his father was the wild mane of hair, but his mother always reassured him it had more resemblance to how her brother’s were to quell his anger.

He’d ask who her brother was, the curiosity always eating at him, but the way she dipped her head and offered a sad smile when she mentioned him made Eiji stop every time.

The attention his mother gave him made Eiichi jealous, but Eiji never did anything to quell the nasty emotion. He had the questionable love and pride of their father, so he felt no remorse in holding this over him. It’s not something his older brother is in control of, and he knows this isn’t fair to him, but Eiji had no obligation to conform and hide his contempt over their own situation.

He did, however, share the sweets his mother gave him to the other. Eiichi was particularly fond of the Yōkan he set aside especially for him. A small peace offering, something that made Eiji hoped his brother would understand without him plainly saying it.

When the six year old started taking their training seriously, started fighting him as an equal and not someone inferior, Eiji knew then that they would be okay.

**~~sss~~ **

By the time he was five years old himself, his twin sisters Fumiko and Emiko were born and Eiichi was given his first real sword.

Still taking his second life as it comes, Eiji took his time understanding the complexities of obtaining your first sword in a clan full of Samurai. He still expects to wake up, to be ~~**[ ]**~~ once more. Ignoring the twisted feelings pressing against his chest he still congratulates his brother, is happy for him, and makes sure he knows by giving him two servings of Yōkan. Two!

His brother’s blade is a sight to behold, old man Yasu really outdoing himself and never pulling any punches when it comes to his swords.

The tsuka is a golden brown color, with the pommel and the tsuba being all gold. The thick cord of white thread is wrapped tightly around the scabbard, with golden brown patterns resembling jagged teeth printed on it. There’s just a small twinge of envy pressing against Eiji’s chest but he promptly stomps that down and crushes it.

He knows he’ll get his own as well, at the same age Eiichi did and just as beautiful.

There’s a ceremony, since Eiichi’s the firstborn, and a small gathering afterwards that can be seen as a form of celebration. Eiji only sees it as an excuse for the adults to get drunk.

The next day they resume their normal duties as honorable sons and go through their morning training. Eiichi’s sword is only reserved for actual battle or when training against their father away from Eiji’s prying eyes. When doing their joint training they both sport wooden swords to minimize unnecessary injuries.

Their mother busies herself with taking care of their sisters, but makes sure to have time for them. If he notices his brother going misty eyed and holding back a sniffle at the newfound attention, Eiji never mentions it.

**~~sss~~ **

“Ne, Aniue.” He’s sitting in front of Eiichi with his legs sprawled out.

“Hm?” His brother is trying to tame his mane of hair so it didn’t get in the way of training.

“Who were those funny looking people with Father?”

His brother wrinkles his nose, and Eiji holds back a snicker as he waits for an answer. A yelp and a pout follow when the older boy yanks a curl in response.

“They were shinobi of the lands neighboring ours. They came for a summit or something like that,” he answers, clicking his tongue when his brother continued to wiggle against his hold on his hair.

At one point he cursed something under his breath, then threatened Eiji with hacking everything off if he didn’t stop moving. That kept the younger boy in line just enough for him to finish the high tail he managed to wrangle his wild curls in.

He kept the fact that his fidgeting came from his past self’s hate of people touching their hair. At least he had someone he could trust here, just enough for the vulnerability to be minimal.

Instead he goes back to what his brother told him and furrows his brow. “Shinobi? Actual ninja? Why would they want to come here?” He remembers the lessons, the history between shinobi and samurai (or lack thereof) and what he’s written in his journals. All he knew about ninja were the mere necessities, basic information everyone should know when dealing with them.

They were an enigma and Eiji had an ominous feeling crawling down his back.

Eiichi flicks him on the nose, and he sticks his tongue out while his brother explains. “Because we’re neutral ground, and this meeting was simply a test to make sure they don’t slit their throats while in each other’s presence. Our clansmen are to provide a peaceful environment, which hasn’t happened since the first Kage Summit.”

Huh, that makes sense at least, and makes his understanding known as he hums a reply to his brother. Getting up from the ground, he helps Eiichi up as the other gives him a twitch of a smirk.

“Also Mifune taisho has no patience for unruly behavior.”

At that he simply snickers, knowing _full well_ the implications of trying anything “unruly” in the presence of their general.


End file.
